For In Time To Remind

I always walk
on the broken step, the
others all avoid it,
I walk on it
to remember.
~Barney F. McClelland

Forgetfulness is an easy choice. Some memories are best forgotten. Buried deep down they are safe and far from bothering me again. Yet I cling on to some not because I want to savour or treasure them but for a careful remembrance. Each time I face it there’s comfort in knowing that I won’t be doing that same thing again. Why do I do that even when I know that it chips off a part of me? I’m not eccentric and am not insane either yet some blunders or mishaps are worth retaining. It doesn’t hamper my present activities, never deviates or confuses me or dulls my senses but it does add a hint of forbearance and savoir-faire. 

Letters you gave me I kept

Tore them apart in my eyes

No longer have they smelt sweet

Reeked of rot and lost trust

Forget I must

Never saw them again

Not with these eyes, but

Sometimes I recall all those lines

Which you wrote me in my primes

In scribbled gibberish

I could hear your rummy voice

They were destined to be ashes

Forgotten inks, pages in stasis

I kept those forgotten pages

For half-remembrances

For in time to remind.

Forget Me, Forget Me Not

"I don't wanna remember this crappy thing, not even for a single day". I've lost track of the number of times I repeated that sentence in my  life. Tried to console myself that from today onwards this chapter is closed... for eternity. But, do you really able to forget ? Then there are times when you want to freeze and say-" Let's not forget this" But, do you always able to recollect ? Answer is... at least in my case a big NO

How do you lose a word? Does it vanish into your memory, like an old toy in a cupboard, and lie hidden in the cobwebs and dust, waiting to be cleaned out or rediscovered?

~Amitav Ghosh

Some say that there's this thing called sub-consciousness and that's the place where all mysteries of memory that are beyond our understanding lies. I say- " Who Cares" when time comes this foxy memoir of yours play its card and all you do is deal with the consequences irrespective of good or bad.

Image Credit: http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/067/0/c/lines_hold_the_memories_by_agnes_cecile-d38y67i.jpg

walking down the alley

plugged-in, listening songs

I saw a boy with a bunch of boys

red-tee wrapped around his waist

he looked like some hooligan, a total waste

bemired clothes and colly hands

holding a puppy, he made a puppy face

back in time

saw myself  in that same alley

with similar dirty dress and sounds

I was with my dog, rallying around

damn he's dead now and damn I hate that boy

I miss my dog, my spanking toy

People say so many things

so many people come and go

you process them all

some faded, some jaded

imprinted on your wall

you repaint or scratch

spot's never vacant again

and there isn't a train of thought

my friend

you won't be catching again :)